


Creating A Whole New World

by bojangler



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials, Classic Super Villain, Daemons, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bojangler/pseuds/bojangler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His Dark Materials AU. The Magisterium has been shut down decades ago and with it, Intercisions. A dead minister, however, may change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creating A Whole New World

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Excuse the horrid summary, I swear it won't be as bad as it sounds. I just cannot for the life of me figure out how to write a non-campy excerpt.
> 
> This is the second piece of work I'll be posting here. It'll be a chapter story, but so far I have no idea how long it'll be. I have a clear idea of how I want it to proceed though! 
> 
> Enjoy!

The breathing was loud in the silence that followed. Dying screams still made the air particles in the room faintly reverberate. Here and there, little flecks of gold caught the light and shone, swirling vaguely in the direction of a knife with a point so fine that it was almost difficult to make out. 

A dark smile lingered in the faint light.

\--

“Intercision,” M declared, hands gripping the edge of her table and knuckles white. The very surface of the wood appeared to still be trembling from the palms that had slapped it only a minute ago. There was a long silence following her statement, the only double-o agent currently in the country and free for duty giving her a flat look. His daemon, however, betrayed his emotions with a small twitch of her feathers. 

“I didn't know The Magisterium still had any sort of authority to conduct intercisions,” Bond said carefully, sitting up a bit more straighter to show that he was paying attention. At his shoulder, his daemon did the same, casting the lady's daemon a look asking for answers. 

“They don't. The Magisterium was taken down quite a few decades years ago. This is an individual.” There was a grim look on M's face, her lips downturned and her knuckles slowly loosening on the wood. Bond was a bit surprised that there were no finger imprints left as an impression. She smoothed her fingers over the desk, pushing over a thin dossier towards the agent with a single finger and settling down into her chair. In the corner, her snake daemon coiled itself indifferently. 

James flipped through the folder, pausing as he recognised the minister in the photograph. An up-and-coming man who was said to have potential for a higher post in the government. He was also dead. 

The man had a young face and mousy hair, crooked smile on his lips in the photograph at the top of the file. His daemon, a small mink creature, curled around his neck in an impersonation of a scarf. The text in the dossier had medical jargon that explained the situation he had been found in. Generally, after death, James had often seen the bodies covered in a golden Dust that indicated the death of their daemon. This body was particularly strange in the fact that there was hardly any Dust. The doctors found it equally curious even though they had barely two sentences dedicated to mentioning it. A few more pages held some more information about his lifestyle and his established habits, followed by a few photographs of the man dead. A letter, typed neatly and free of fingerprints according to a small note attached to it, followed.

_Science and religion _can_ work together; the question is merely whether you are strong enough to try it._

Going through the rest of the folder, Bond sat back with a small grunt, setting the dossier back onto the table he had lifted it from and idly scratching his jaw. M was watching him, fingers steepled and steely glare in place as she waited for his evaluation.

“What is it you need me to do?” the blonde finally asked, sitting back comfortably and shrugging Kharis off his shoulder. The kestrel grumbled, hovering briefly before resettling on his shoulder with a few warning talons digging into the fabric of the shirt. 

“Find this man, stop him, and bring him back here – preferably alive rather than dead; there is only a limited amount of paperwork I'm willing to do for a criminal.”

“How long do I have?” 

“All the time you need, but we'd rather there wasn't another.”

James gave M a knowing look, standing up and taking up a military at-ease position. His daemon seemed eager for the hunt, if it were possible for a bird to seem so. 

“Yes ma'am. I'll have him as soon as possible.” A sharp nod accompanied his words, a charming grin lighting the man's face for the briefest of seconds. Sometimes M forgot that the agent was a double-oh. It was the rare moments of grinning at the prospect of killing someone that reminded her that all her double-ohs were possibly mentally unstable. Scratch that, definitely mentally unstable.

“Try not to blow London up, 007,” the woman sighed, seemingly already regretting her decision as the man gave her a nod and left. Sighing, she pressed her palms to her eyes and cast a glance over her shoulder at her daemon. “Do you think I should be calling other Agents on this case?” 

“Definitely. God knows what Bond will get up to alone.”

\--

 

“Oh Agent 004, I had such high hopes of you.” The voice slithered through the room, coiling unsettlingly around said agent's ear. She struggled in her bindings carefully, trying without any success to remove a length of wire from her bracelet. Her daemon fluttered weakly against the board he had been pinned to.

“Well, I think we'd both have a lot more fun if I was untied,” she said, pausing for a second to cast a sultry look at the shadows from where she could hear him talking. There was a soft chuckle at that, footsteps gently moving around before a shiver of disgust went through the agent.

He was _touching_ her daemon. 

MI6 prepared agents for the eventuality that their daemons would be taken from them, or touched, but so far, 004 had been lucky in that the people she went against had maintained that cardinal rule and stayed away. And no amount of training could really get you used to the fact that someone was literally touching your soul. It was violating and disgusting on a level so deep she was finding it hard to keep her composure. Still, the brunette curled her wrist a little tighter and tried to unlock herself from her binds. She could feel a very faint distress come through to her.

“Ah, agent 004. I almost wish that I didn't have to do this,” the voice said apologetically, the hand touching her daemon tightening. (004 felt her breath catch, movements becoming more frantic as she tried to desperately to dislocate her thumb, _anything_ to get out of her binds and move the man away from her daemon.) 

There was a terrible noise.

There was a terrible silence.

The Dust didn't settle on the corpse. There was nothing to settle on her cold body, the last vestiges of her soul drifting away to the smile that was almost as sharp as the knife it accompanied.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! Constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
